Gwyn's hand was warm in his as he pushed open the door to the boutique, a sly grin upon his lips after she had observed that the sign in the window was turned to 'closed'.

"Do you have such little faith in me? That I would bring you here without knowing when the store would be open?" Shadows twirled between them, one curling through her silky hair as her lips pursed, teal eyes glittering with challenge. Azriel tucked the curtain of copper behind her ear, leaning in. "You're beautiful like that, you know? That's why I tease you so much." He pressed his lips to hers before she could retort and then pulled her further into the boutique, gowns lining the walls and accessories sparkling in the early morning sun.

"Marta? We're here," he called, pulling his priestess in front of him before winding his arms around her middle. Taking a deep breath, he dipped his chin, letting her water lily scent and lavender shampoo comfort him. There was a hint of vanilla there, too. Something new. She smelled like a dream. "The shop isn't usually open at this hour, but I spoke with Marta and she was so kind as to allow us to monopolize her time and talents," he murmured into her ear. It was a cozy little establishment, and the shadowsinger was glad there would not be other customers. He was quite skilled at keeping his wings in check, but there was no denying that he would have to be vigilant to ensure that he didn't knock anything off of shelves or catch on one of the many garments in the space.

"Master Azriel!" The woman that emerged from the rear of the store was short and stocky, with a flushed face and crinkles at the corners of her eyes from her perpetual friendly smile. She had been peppy and enthusiastic when he had come to her, explaining his hope that she could help him with a dress for the female he was courting. Marta's eyes had lit up. Azriel had been surprised that she made no mention or question regarding his shadows, but seemed not to be bothered by them in the least. The dark-haired shop owner clasped her hands in front of her, cheeks reddening with cheer. "Oh, this must be Miss Gwyneth!"

The spymaster relinquished his hold on the Valkyrie, allowing her to step forward and grasp the hands of the smaller, older fae. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Marta. Thank you so much for allowing us to come in today." Marta waved away the sentiment and reached up to pat Gwyn's cheek.

"No no no, when Master Azriel told me what he wanted to do, I was thrilled to oblige."

"Please, Marta. Just Azriel. I insist." He grinned as she shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll try to remember," she answered. "Now come! Let's sit down a moment and discuss what you think you're looking for."

Gwyn's uncertain gaze fell on him, reaching for his hand as they were ushered to a plush sofa upholstered in suede the color of rich chocolate. There was a small pedestal in front of the couch, about a foot high, with a tri-fold mirror on the other side. When they sat, he wound an arm around her back, his other hand in her lap, her fingers tracing the whorls of discolored skin. She was nervous, which took him by surprise. His fearless Gwyn, who led a beast to an Illyrian encampment at the base of Ramiel during the Blood Rite, was anxious about getting a gown for Starfall.

"Is there anything you were thinking of, dear?"

"I... well..." The redhead faltered, looking over to him. She gave him a timid smile, the constellations on her cheeks stained pink. "I suppose I'm not entirely sure."

"There was a gown in the window. It was months ago, but it stopped her in her tracks," Azriel added, giving her hip an encouraging squeeze. "Gwyn hasn't had many occasions for gowns, though. I thought it would be best to defer to you, Marta, to start? Then she can try some things, find what she likes. And then we can come to a final decision."

"Oh, what fun for me!" Marta squealed, clapping her hands. "Alright, dears. You just relax and I'll grab a few things!"

"Marta?" Gwyn spoke as the brunette shot up. Her friendly brown eyes turned to the priestess. "Please, nothing too revealing? I'm afraid I'm not as risque as some of the other ladies in Velaris." Marta just nodded with that smile that never faltered.

"Of course, dearie. I already have some thoughts, and none of them involve showing all your naughty bits."

Azriel coughed, choking on nothing at the seamstress' words. Gwyn's head tilted back, cackling as she fell into him. He caught her and wrapped his arms around her, grinning as he felt her body shake with giggles against his chest.

"Did she really say that?" he mused, causing the priestess in his arms to howl again. She wiped away mirthful tears with the back of her hands.

"She did!" Gwyn sputtered. "Mother and all the gods above!"

The shadowsinger chuckled. "Breathe, Songbird. We can't have you passing out before we've even gotten started." As if summoned, Marta popped back into the main parlor, garments heaped over her arm.

"Alright, lovey, you come with me," the petite brunette waved Gwyn forward. "Mas- Azriel, time for you to wait patiently while we get this one into something smashing." His lips brushed her cheek as he let her go, pushing her up by her hips to stand and follow the cheery shop owner.

"Patience is my specialty, Marta." His mouth spread into a rakish grin. The older female turned even deeper crimson than her usual rosy cheeks as Gwyn just rolled her eyes.

"Quit flirting with her. I might get jealous," the redhead threatened. She stuck her tongue out at him and turned to follow Marta to the curtained fitting room behind the mirror.

"I don't think I would mind seeing a jealous Gwyn," he murmured to himself, amused by the thought.

It didn't take too long for Marta to step out of the fitting room, muttering words of encouragement to an apparently shy Valkyrie. "Come, dear, don't be nervous." Her eyes turned to Azriel, winking conspiratorially. "You look stunning. It's a perfect place to start."

The spymaster wished his shadows had at least given him a warning or any indication of what would be stepping out from behind the heavy curtain. But even if they had, he may not have been ready for the vision that met his gaze.

Marta had put her in that dress from the window from all those months ago. Azriel had said it would suit her, but even he hadn't expected it to be so...

"Beautiful," he breathed. He slid to the front of the cushioned seat, back rigid as Gwyn stepped onto the pedestal. She wrung her hands as her gaze lifted slowly to the mirror.

"Oh," she whispered, her pink cheeks belying her surprise. Her frame whipped around to face him, eyes squinting playfully. "Speechless, Shadowsinger?"

"Yes," he laughed, standing and stepping up to her. On the pedestal she was taller than him, if only just. "You're gorgeous," he huffed with a shake of his head.

"Do you like it?" Gwyn gestured down calling attention to the satin hugged her waist and skimmed over her hips.

"Do you like it?" he parroted back. "You're the one who's going to be wearing it all evening."

"Yes, but you have to look at me," she retorted. Azriel's head fell back as he laughed. When his gaze returned to her, his eyes were soft. "Gwyn, you could be wearing a potato sack and I would still stare at you all day." He settled his hands on her hips as her fingers covered her burning cheeks.

"You are a menace, Azriel," she hissed. He just smirked back at her before turning her back around to face the mirror.

"What do you like about it?" His thumbs stroked over the small of her back as she tilted her head, letting herself take in the sight before them. Did she see what he saw? Did she understand just how devastating her beauty was? She was so humble and unassuming, he wasn't sure she would ever admit it. But, gods, she was perfect.

"I like the color, but I think I'd like something a little darker," she mused, running her fingertips over the shimmering crystal embellishment. "And I like the beading. A little sparkle, but not too much. But maybe for Starfall I'd like some kind of unique design or construction. If that makes sense."

Azriel nodded, tightening his grip on the curves of her hips. "It does." He looked to Marta, mouth tilting up. "Think you have something?"

"Of course! Come, dearie, let's try another." Marta beckoned enthusiastically to the Valkyrie. Azriel sighed contentedly, heart light from the ease and... fun. Some people would find it mundane, but that was the beauty of it. Since the beginning of his relationship with Gwyn, his whole interpretation of courtship had changed. He'd once thought it would be dance halls and fancy dinners and garden strolls, extravagant gifts and quiet, romantic evenings. And it had been some of those things.

But it was also walks in Velaris - helping her overcome her fears. It was lunch in the library when she huffed about Merrill or gushed about one of those smutty novels, sparring until they barely had the strength to stand, snort-laughing at jokes and stargazing and smashing dirt into each other's faces.

And shopping for evening gowns.

And, Cauldron, he loved it more than he could possibly express.

The shadowsinger was just moving back to sit when Gwyn emerged again, wearing a cobalt gown that seemed to glow against her moon touched skin. His throat bobbed, recalling how Cassian had raved about the smug warrior's pride that had coursed through him the first time Nesta had intentionally clad herself in the crimson of his killing power. He'd considered it a primitive, uncouth reaction.

But fuck him , there was something feral and raw that it awakened within him.

Mine .

He shook away the primal possessiveness and recentered on her. The deep blue gown had a full skirt that flared from her waist, crafted from a heavy, luxurious velvet. The bodice and sleeves were crafted from an intricate geometric lace with a neckline that - if he were forced to guess - plunged lower than anything else she'd ever worn. It was still very tasteful.

No naughty bits in sight.

Gwyn took his proffered hand, accepting his assistance as she stepped onto the pedestal and looked in the mirror.

"This is lovely," she murmured, palms skimming down the rich fabric of the skirt.

"I must say, I'm quite fond of the color," Azriel added, the siphons on his hands flickering softly in agreement. The redhead scoffed, but turned her hips to examine herself.

"I suppose this color suits both of us," she mused before letting a smile grace her lips. "I'm glad your siphons are blue. Red isn't my color." With a roll of his eyes he grabbed her hips again. He loved having his hands there.

"How do you like it, Gwyn?"

"I want this color." She turned to him, leveling him with a pointed glare. "And don't let it go to your head. It definitely doesn't have anything to do with you or your siphons." He arched a brow.

"Of course not."

Gwyn pursed her lips, but he could see the playful glimmer in her teal eyes. "I love the lace, too. And the sleeves. I'm covered, but I don't feel like I'm hiding."

"You're such a pretty young thing," Marta cooed, hands clasped in front of her chest. "I think I know what I'm planning for you. But I have something else I think you should try. Something I think Master Azriel will like very much, as well." She nodded toward him, his shadows perking in interest as Gwyn giggled in front of him.

"Of course, Marta." Gwyn allowed the shorter female to pull her back into the dressing room. The shadowsinger moved back to the sofa, giving a satisfied nod to the shop owner waiting for his priestess.

"Oh, my." Gwyn's voice floated out from behind the heavy curtain.

"Are you alright, dear?" The petite brunette called through the drapes.

"Y-y-yes," the Valkyrie answered. Azriel found his shoulders tightening at the strain in her voice. "But... I don't think I can come out." He rose to his feet, giving Marta an encouraging dip of his chin as he approached the fitting room.

"Gwyn? Are you alright, Songbird?" he called softly.

"I am. I just... I don't... I've never worn anything like this." Azriel opened his mouth to respond, but she continued, voice quiet. "But I want you to see it, too." He felt the prickle of goosebumps over his skin.

"I could come in? Would you prefer that?" The shadowsinger already had a hand on the curtain when she gave a hesitant 'yes', stepping into the space as Gwyn turned to face him.

Her neck and chest were flushed above a neckline that drifted off of her shoulders, revealing the sprinkling of sun-stamped freckles there. As his eye took in the rest of her form his throat grew dry and his breeches grew tighter.

Mother and gods above, Marta was an angel.

The dress clung to her in a swath of forest green velvet. It was tight against her arms, her breasts and torso, over her hips before finally flaring above her knees. It painted every curve, every muscle, framing them in a way he'd never seen - not on her. It was stunning.

It was sexy .

"Shadowsinger, the silence is not helping. Even though the ogling is somewhat appreciated."

His chin jerked, eyes finding her teal pools and vaguely aware of her fingers fidgeting in his periphery. His throat bobbed.

"Gwyn," he rasped, immediately trying to clear his throat and try again. "Gwyn. Cauldron. You're fucking exquisite." Her lashes lowered as her cheeks blushed deeper red, turning to face herself in the mirror. Azriel sucked a breath through his teeth as he glimpsed the ridges of her shoulder blades and the generous swell of her ass. Gods, the way this dress hugged her rear... demanded his eyes and his fantasies...

Clearing his throat again he stepped up behind her, finding her eyes in the mirror as his hands found their home on her hips.

"What do you think?" her voice tremored under his molten gaze. He lowered his chin, planting a kiss on her shoulder. He felt her shudder in his grasp.

"I don't think there are enough words," he murmured, pressing another kiss closer to her neck. Looking up, he caught her eyes again, lifting a hand to brush the curtain of copper behind her ear. His lips found the crook between her shoulder and her neck, her stuttered gasp echoing in his ears. His own breathing became ragged, heavy. His mouth found the shell of her ear. "May I touch you, Gwyn?" He squeezed her hips gently as he breathed against her cheek.

Her face turned to him, the rest of her body following. The teal eyes that had been glittering with mirth just minutes ago were now dark. But it wasn't fear or anxiety that clouded them. He stared into her depths, the deepest trenches of her soul. He was so lost in them he almost flinched when he felt her hands cupping his jaw. She lifted onto her toes and kissed him, passion and yearning heating from their contact. Azriel was all too happy to let her set the pace, though he found himself a bit disappointed when she pulled back.

"I think I would like that," she breathed, smiling up at him. The implicit trust that painted her features rocked him, forcing him to suck in a breath. He stepped back slightly, trying to see more of her.

He lifted trembling, scarred hands to her jaw, letting his calluses scrape over her soft skin before they traced down over her pulse and then her collar bones. His hands followed those lines to her shoulders and down her arms, pride lighting inside of him at the strength he found there. He grasped her hips again, finding her eyes in silent question. She nodded.

His palms skimmed over the skin-tight velvet. He skated one hand to support the small of her back and he pressed his other hand into her stomach, tracing the contours of her abdominals up and then between her breasts. Gods, he wanted to feel all of her, be skin-to-skin with her. He watched his fingers as they curved around the outside of her breast and cupping her at long last. Lips found his, feverishly tasting him, dragging his breath and his very soul from him. He let his hand massage and explore, this new intimacy coiling deep in his core. His other hand drifted, palming her perfect ass as she moaned into his lips. The sound she made brought him back to reality, and he slowed them down, arms wrapping around her. After their lips parted she leaned her cheek on his chest, her breaths matching his. They stood there, wrapped in each other, as the minutes lengthened between them.

"We're buying this dress. We'll figure out where you might wear it later. But there's no fucking way you're leaving here without it. I won't allow it," he vowed against her hair. Her shoulder shook, her laughter muffled in his chest as she wrapped her arms under his shoulders.

"I thought you didn't want me hiding my legs from you with gowns?" she teased. Azriel dared to let his hands slide down to the small of her back, long scarred fingers skating over the curve of her muscular behind.

"Believe me, Berdara, this dress hides nothing ." One hand reluctantly drifted back up, cradling her cheek and pulling her mouth up to his waiting grin. He tugged her bottom lip between his teeth, their mouths melding again until they were both gasping for breath. "As much as I don't want you to ever take this dress off, I think Marta said she had a plan. And we can't monopolize her shop all day." His lips brushed her brow and then he stepped back, the loss of her warmth tempting him to take it all back and tell the shopkeeper to just leave them and he'd pay whatever she asked for her discretion.

A knowing grin spread across Gwyn's freckled face, as if she could see his thoughts painted before her. Framed on the wall. She dipped her chin toward the curtain. "I'll be out in a moment, Shadowsinger."

~~~

"You really didn't have to buy that dress, Azriel," the Valkyrie admonished playfully as they walked down the cobbled path further into Velaris, fingers threaded together.

"I absolutely did have to buy it, Berdara. Did you not see it? See you ? It would be a crime for you to be without it." The shadowsinger answered with a beaming, charming smile. It was something he had worn more in the past year than the previous five hundred combined. Hazel eyes drifted to her. "And, I must admit, I find myself quite fond of it."

"Perhaps you can wear it, then. Although I doubt it will look quite as lovely on you as it does on me." Gwyn playfully pushed her shoulder into his. "No matter how pretty you are."

"You think I'm pretty, lovely Valkyrie? I'm blushing," Azriel crooned, lifting their tangled fingers to his lips. The redhead groaned, rolling her eyes.

"And you're as insufferable as you are gorgeous."

Laughter shook his shoulders, and he pulled Gwyn to the side, corded arms wrapping around her as he leaned back against the sun-warmed stone of one of the many businesses that lined the street.

"And you, little bird, are as beautiful as you are brave-" he leaned in and kissed her cheek "-and kind-" his lips brushed her brow "-and strong." Two long, scar-traced fingers lifted her chin, revealing her depthless teal eyes and blushing cheeks. When his lips claimed hers they were soft and reverent. They were in the city, and he knew she wouldn't want to make a spectacle of themselves. So he pulled back, regrettably quickly, and pecked the tip of her nose before pushing them away from the wall again, shadows dancing in their wake. "If you don't stop distracting me, Berdara, you're going to be late for lunch and Nesta and Emerie will have my head."

" I'm distracting you ?!" Gwyn balked, trying halfheartedly to pull her hand from his. His grip was unyielding, unwilling to lose the warmth of their connected fingers.

"Oh, yes, Gwyneth. I find you endlessly distracting," the shadowsinger crooned, tugging her gently and spying a growing flush through a sidelong glance.

"That's not my fault," she mumbled, earning a chuckle as a scolding voice reached them.

"Az, quit being selfish with Gwyn. It's our turn now," Nesta Archeron called from across the way, she and Emerie waiting at the entrance of the small cafe where Gwyn was meeting them for lunch. He shook his head, leading the priestess toward their friends.

"Aren't I allowed to be a little selfish?" he chuckled, earning nothing but a raised brow from the honey-haired Valkyrie and crossed arms from the Illyrian female. Flashing them a rakish grin, he lifted Gwyn's hand to press his lips to her knuckles. "Have fun, Songbird."

With that, he relinquished his hold on the warrior priestess and nodded toward Nesta and Emerie, watching the trio until they disappeared into the cafe. Azriel allowed himself a moment to gaze after them and reminisce, allowing his time with Gwyn to soften a heart he once thought dead and cold and unlovable. She made him feel so very different than the male he was the winter night he'd happened upon her in the training ring. He'd been so sure that his brother had been trying to quash his last chance at happiness, just to run face-first into it during his retreat.

His lips tilted up as he turned on his heel, walking around the corner and down the block to a familiar jeweler. Over a year ago he had stepped into this shop, looking nearly thoughtlessly for a pretty thing. For a woman he truly had known next to nothing about. And while he returned to this jeweler for another gift - another necklace - the purpose and thought was entirely different.

"Ah, Master Azriel," the aged male behind the glass greeted him, eyes twinkling above red cheeks and a fluffy mustache. "Are you here for the piece you commissioned?" He waved the spymaster back, not even waiting for his nod in confirmation. With a breath he followed, eager to see the vision he had come to life. Something original, created solely for someone so very special.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty.